


heartbeat

by weepies



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: College AU, Fluff, M/M, homophobia mention, lil angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:04:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepies/pseuds/weepies
Summary: If they ever separate, he will break, he thinks.





	heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> this was posted on my tumblr, too- oaf.tumblr.com  
> hope u enjoy!

_september_

Eddie is in love. Richie is staring down him, dark curls enveloping his freckled face, thin lips pressed into a tight smile, adoration in his eyes, and Eddie is in love. Eddie wants to mumble something along the lines of:  “Get off me, trashmouth,” but the words cannot surpass his love-struck mouth. There is a certain look in Richie’s eyes that wills Eddie to stay quiet, hands pressed to hands, bodies flushed. He has never known a love like this before.

“You’re so beautiful,” Richie says, and he brushes a hand against Eddie’s blushing right cheek. It’s an out of character compliment for Richie. Eddie does not say anything; he simply allows the deepening of the blush on his cheeks to answer as thanks. Then he slips his hand into Richie’s—the one caressing Eddie’s cheek—and presses the softest kiss in the middle of his palm. It’s soft lips on calloused skin, but Eddie doesn’t mind. He thinks Richie doesn’t, either.

“I didn’t know that…” Richie starts, but he pauses to gaze down at Eddie. The room around them is dark, lights having been dimmed romantically, the curtains shut. “Before you, I didn’t know that I could care about someone else so much. But I do. I care about you so much it makes my heart hurt so fucking bad.”

Richie is always leaving Eddie speechless. There’s another chaste kiss to Richie’s palm.

“It’s a good kind of hurt, though, isn’t it?” Eddie speaks finally. He thinks maybe tears will form in his eyes. Richie leans closer to Eddie, so that their faces are only an inch apart, so close. Eddie’s nervous breath must be hot on Richie’s lips. “The kind of hurt where… if you’re not with me, my heart feels like it’ll drop out of my chest. But if you  _are_  with me, it still hurts for some reason.”

There is a haze in Eddie’s cluttered mind. The tears come now, yet Eddie doesn’t notice until Richie drags his index finger besides Eddie’s eye, wiping the tears away.

“Yeah,” is all Richie says, and he leans down to kiss Eddie. “A good kind of hurt.” Lips on lips, they kiss. Eddie digs a hand into Richie’s shirt, scrunching the fabric tightly within his fist.

If they ever separate, he will break, he thinks.

_january_

****Richie is in love. It is snowing out today, and Eddie is looking at Richie as if he is his whole world. There is a snowball trapped within Eddie’s gloved fingers, the sun shining across his reddened cheeks, a toothy smile claiming his lips, and Richie is in love. He has never been the type of man to speak what he is feeling, but with Eddie it is breathtakingly easy. There is an unspoken trust between them that has been built on five AM secrets. Richie did not think love was real before this.

Eddie throws the snowball he is holding. It hits Richie square in the face and Richie’s glasses fog up immediately. While he yells out a roar of a laugh, Eddie approaches him on light feet and gently removes the thick frames from his face. “Sorry, Rich,” he says. Eddie is a blurry figure to Richie and yet Richie has never felt so intimate with anybody.

When Eddie gives Richie’s glasses back, they are spotless. Not one speck of snow remains, and Eddie is so clear that it makes Richie’s heart skip a beat. It is this sight that prompts Richie to begin carrying an eyeglass cloth.

Richie goes in for a kiss. Eddie does not hesitate. They are pressed hips to hips and soon, they will be lips to lips. There is almost no distance between them, and Richie’s heart hurts.

Then Eddie stops him—a gentle nudge to Richie’s chest.

They are outside Eddie’s house. His mother is inside, but discrimination is everywhere. “I’m sorry, Richie,” Eddie says, and Richie wonders if Eddie has done anything but apologize today. They untangle their bodies and Richie watches with tired eyes as Eddie does a quick surveillance around the area. Nobody seemed to notice their previous closeness.

“Tonight,” Eddie says.

“Sure thing, Eds,” Richie says with a smile.

Tonight has never seemed so far.

_may_

Eddie is in love, but he is also in college. He is crying, and Richie is holding him. The only thing within Eddie’s sight is Richie’s dark shirt and his own clenched fists. Murmuring congratulations (and the occasional question of  _do you need your aspirator?_ ), Richie sways Eddie side to side. Eddie thinks his heart might explode. He wishes many things upon many stars, but what he wishes most is that they never separate.

He is not a child anymore. He knows wishes do not come true.

“You’re gonna have such a fun time in college, Eddie Spaghetti. I just know it. You’ll make lots of friends and learn all about nursing… you don’t have to worry, Eddie Spaghetti, please don’t worry.”

Eddie does not know how he’ll do it. New York is so far, and Richie will stay here.

A hand prompts Eddie’s chin up, and Richie breathes a kiss to Eddie’s lips. It is a celebratory kiss, passing between them. Eddie thinks there are galaxies within Richie’s lips. A pain sprouts within Eddie’s heart at Richie’s next words: “You’re going to fucking rock college, Eds. You’ll own it. I fucking know it. Don’t you worry about anything.”

Sitting like this, with tear stained cheeks and holding the hand of his lover, Eddie wonders how it is possible not to worry. All good things must come to an end.

“I love you,” Eddie chokes out. Richie kisses his forehead with chapped lips and then buries his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“I love you, too, Eds. I’ll be here for you no matter what, and don’t you forget it.”

_september_

Richie is in love, but his lover is away. It has been three weeks, and a phone call is not enough. He stays up late now, playing guitar and smoking cigarettes, cheeks crimson from the night air and lips chapped as they always are. He wonders if Eddie is okay at night, whether or not he is still haunted by nightmares of clowns that eat children or lepers that try to attack. There is a hurt in Richie’s chest, and he wonders if there is one in Eddie’s, too.

It is Sunday—the day Eddie calls. He calls the same time every week (3 PM), but Richie waits by the phone all day, just incase. He sits in the kitchen, fingers tapping a radio tune out on the counter, thoughts running to which song he should learn on the guitar tonight.

The phone rings. Richie has never been so quick in his life.

“Hello?” he says into the phone. “Eddie Spaghetti?”

It is quiet on the other line.

“Richie.” A gentle sob breaks out. “Richie.”

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” Richie wishes he were there. The pain in his chest is bad, but perhaps not as much as the distance between them. “Who hurt you? What’s wrong?”

There is nothing but Eddie’s crying for a few minutes. Richie thinks he’s never heard a worse sound. There is sniffling, then shuffling against the phone.

“It’s just—“ Eddie starts to speak, but his breathing comes out in shambles. There is a slight pause and the sound of his aspirator. “I-I came out here to learn more about myself and to study what I love… But Rich, without you by my side I don’t see the point in doing either.”

“Eds…”

“I miss you so fucking much, trashmouth.” Eddie cries softly. “If you don’t come visit me or fucking move to New York then I don’t know what I’ll do. Fucking hell.”

“I miss you, too, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“I need you, Richie.”

“I need you, too, Eddie,” Richie replies. He thinks about saying _I can’t move to New York because I don’t wanna leave your mom_  but he bites his tongue and tries to calculate how many extra shifts at the Aladdin it’ll take to book one plane ticket. “I’ll try to make enough money to move. Soon. I’ll fucking walk to New York if I have to. You hear me, Eddie? I love you so fucking much not even exhaustion is gonna stop me from seeing you.”

Eddie is chuckling now. “Okay, trashmouth, whatever you say.”

One day they will be together again. They both know this.

“Rich, can you just talk for a while? I just wanna hear your voice.”

Richie never thought he would hear Eddie  _ask_  him to speak, but he does regardless. He speaks about having his first job, learning guitar, the autumn weather, the new shop that’s opened up—anything to take their minds off of their hurting hearts. Even just hearing Eddie’s voice hurts Richie’s heart. But it’s not so bad; it’s a good kind of hurt.


End file.
